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sknnyvanilla · 3 days ago

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The Chic Diet by kit olsen

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Diets

The Baby Food Diet

Ohmigod, tell me more, right? Enter: the Baby Food Diet.

You don't have to chew anything since the blender did that for you. Portion control won't be an issue either since all of the stores carry single-servings with really low calorie counts. And, like, I guess that babies need clean and well-rounded food or something because, like, all of the ingredients are things that you've heard before and are actually good for you. It's like a juice fast, but with a little more substance and a little less lawnmower drippings. But, like, waaay more affordable, so you can use all of the money that you save on some flavored Pedialyte, which is really just like a zero-calorie coconut water.

Plus, thanks to all of the crazy and demanding yoga mommies decked out in Lululemon with their obscenely expensive strollers, Whole Foods has really upped their game in the baby food aisle. There's seriously a flavour for whatever type of mood that you might be in so don't even worry about the lack of variety. It's like chic girl heaven. Make sure you get there early though, so you won't have to fight with the colicky toddler in the Missoni Bugaboo over the last "zucchini banana & amaranth."

Ella's Kitchen and Plum Organics are good for your basic blends of fruits and vegetables, but I swear that the marketing team at Earth's Best was targeting chic/orthorexic adults when naming their product lines. "Antioxidant Blends?" "Super Fruits?" "Gourmet Meals and Seasonal Harvest?" Um, yea, okay. Like 6 month olds care about that kind of shit.

So, apparently, Tracy Anderson (bless her heart) suggests that one should consume 14 jars per day. Um, no. It's not like we're headed into famine or something. A couple of jars or pouches should suffice and, even then, you should be watching your carb intake. That means NO all-fruit blends, you fat fuck. Make sure to pick vegetable-heavy varieties, though those can be sugarific also. I mean, even "spinach + apple + rutabagas" has 8 grams of carbs after adjusting for fibre. Ugh. Who knew that babies were such sugar whores? It's just, like, really unfair for all of the other customers who are trying to watch their figures.

Take a good look at Abbey Lee Kershaw and Hedi Slimane. See their jutting cheekbones and bulging eyeballs? Yours can totally be like that too, so long as you're willing to adhere to the uber cutesy diet that these two effortlessly chic Skeletors have been known to follow.

Now, everyone that knows that digestion isn't very glamorous. The act of mastication is, in itself, so very vulgar, and then that nasty bolus of caloric horror settles into your distended stomach, stirring up a whirlwind of has and discomfort as it waits for hours to be broken down. After that harrowing process, a trillion fat globules get sent directly to your upper arms and inner thighs. And then, well, you know... something really un-chic happens in le toilette.

But what if you could bypass all of that unpleasantry and just follow a really adorable diet that consists of only a few hundred calories a day? And, like, your stomach will stay flat since it's not filled with festering kale and noxious fumes.

The Air Diet

Every wannabe Carrie Bradshaw (or Charlotte York if you're really annoying) yearns to achieve maximal chicness with minimal effort. And nobody can do posh like the French, right? Even their diets ooze superior elegance that we ugly Americans could only aspire to attain.

Like, take the Air Diet, or L'Air Fooding as French Grazia dubbed it. God, even the name is so chic, I DIE. So anyway, you basically pretend to eat whatever the hell you want, without actually allowing it touch your lips. Naysayers and physicians will be like, "Ohmigod, that's called anorexia!", but, um, no. Anorexia is what my roommate, Sydney, has, and she won't even go near food without having a twitching episode. This is, like, a lot healthier psychologically.

I mean, I totally get it. Everyone knows that enjoying food is an experience and this diet allows you to immerse yourself in the whole process until the actual eating part. But you still get to order your meal, pay for it, cut it up, smell the aromas, and Instagram pictures of your drool-worthy plate. You just don't absorb all of the calories and fat associated with ingesting the actual food. It's like you're a chic French diet mime who traded eating for the right to talk. Ooh, maybe you can buy a really cute. A.P.C. striped shirt to go with your performance. So authentic.

It's not like you don't eat at all, either. You still get to binge on all of the la soupe a l'eau (translation: chic soup with an uber pretentious name) that you want. Oh, you want to know what's in it> Um, I had the recipe right here. Hold on. Oh, here it is. Boiled water and sea salt. Hm. But sea salt has, like, a lot of minerals in it, right? How nutritious.

So, yea. It seems like the majority of my friends have been on this diet for a really long time. Like even before that issue came out. What trendsetters. I mean, it's a great way for cutting calories, you know? As a bonus, it's not even restrictive! Like, you can help yourself to all of the fancily named soup and air that you want. And, like, a variety of air at that. Just stroll through the perfume section at Barney's or traipse through Le Labo when you're feeling bored with the plain, bourgeoisie oxygen around you. And if you're feeling especially ravenous (um, binge eating disorder, anyone?) you can practice some yoga breathing. It's like dietary meditation. Kay, now Ocean Breath, everyone.

The Paleo Diet

While cavemen might not have been very fashion-forward, they apparently knew how to be skinny motherfuckers. The Museum of Natural History really needs to slim down the mannequins in the exhibit to reflect this don't you think? So inaccurate. Anyway, this hunter-gatherer-centric diet is very simple in that it has one rule- only eat shit that Betty Flinstone would have prepared.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with history, this means that Kettle Chips and peanut butter are no-goes. Anything processed, such as Lean Cuisines, or foods that require relatively modern technology to produce, such as grains, are not allowed. Neither are dairy products, refined sugars, legumes, potatoes, processed oils or alcohol. Yup, even alcohol. No, they did not have "Stone Age" vodka or sugar-free "Bedrock" Red Bull back then. Yes, I am positive.

Anyway, you're basically allowed to have wild seafood, organic eggs, grass-fed game, vegetables, fruits and some nuts. The idea behind this style of eating is that humans, as a species, have not greatly evolved since the era of our cave dwelling ancestors. That is, our digestive systems are largely genetically similar to those of dinosaurs and are still not fully adapted to the vast changes in diet that have occurred since the dawn of the agricultural age. Simply put, we're not that great at digesting the majority of the shit foods that line supermarket shelves today. Yes, even the shelves at Whole Foods.

By following the palaeolithic diet, however, we would be providing our bodies with ideal foods to which our digestive systems are genetically adapted, When we are better able to process and absorb nutrients from these easily digested foods, we would be more capable of achieving optimal health.

But who really cares about primal strength and surly shit like that? Not me or any of my friends, despite the fact that everyone I know has "gone Paleo." What we love about this diet is the amount of control and restriction that it provides the user. You can basically reject most foods so long as you can come up with some inane reason as to why. "I'm only channeling cavewomen who lived in the Northern Hemisphere, and I don't think those were native to that region," you can say with a dismissive sniff as you swat away a platter of seasonal stone fruit. Um, apricots have a lot of carbs, didn't you know?

Plus, the diet itself is just really trendy. It's like the new Dukan Diet, which was originally the new Atkins, which was basically the new Cabbage Soup Diet. You'll probably be consuming the same meals that you normally are, but can now affix the hip label of "Paleo" to your dietary habits. But don't do that shit where you put goat's milk butter in your coffee or inhale bushels of avocados in one sitting- no=carb calories are still calories, after all.

The Ridiculously Low Carb Diet

In the world of the chic, all of the inhabitants are consumed with keeping their carb intakes as close to zero as humanly possible. Throw any generic food product at a chic girl and she can spit back its estimated carbohydrate content in mere seconds. And, as if she were a neurologist treating childhood epilepsy, she knows the ins and outs of the ketogenic diet like the back of her Rodin Crema slathered hand.

Though she may have no idea what mitosis is, or how photosynthesis works, ant legitimate chic girl could pass a PhD-level Nutrition exam with flying colours. "In order to get into a state of ketosis, you need to deplete the glycogen stores in your liver and muscles before even tapping into your fat energy sources. To do that, you have to keep your net carbohydrate intake below 25 grams a day," she will prattle off expertly, though she may not even have the faintest idea what she is actually talking about.

Basically, she knows that the lower your carbohydrate intake, the more fat you will end up burning. Thus, being the borderline-psychotic overachiever that she is, she will set an upper limit of approximately 5 grams of net carbohydrates per day for herself.

Plus, carbs are totes unnecessary. No one has ever looked cute while gorging on a slice of pizza or inhaling a burrito. But nibbling on a piece of asparagus or noshing on a sliver of pecorino is just adorbs. They're like low glycaemic pieces de resistance that compliment your Zac Posen cocktail dress. Bread used to be the official food of peasants, just so you know.

"I only eat foods that are green or white," were the first words that my soon-to be-future roommate, Lauren, ever muttered to me. No mention of her name, age or hometown- nothing. That's how seriously a true chic girl take her carbohydrate consumption- it defines who she is.

"What do you mean?" I had asked innocently like a clueless martian. Mind you, I still wore leggings and thought Greek Yogurt parfaits were healthy at the time. (I know, I know- don't judge me.)

Lauren, bless her heart, had then taken me under her wing, expertly gu8iding me into my current status of perpetual ketosis. We basically subsist on kale, spinach, avocado, egg whites, cheese, white fish and chicken breasts. And what can I say? I'm obsessed. The far just melted off like butter (which is totally allowed, by the way.) Like, I never want to belong to any other metabolic state of mind. It's just so simple, and everyone's doing it. I mean, just saunter into a Fashion Week after party and it'll reek of Chanel Chance and ketones. So chic.

So you can go the high fat route a la Atkins, or limit your fat consumption in the way of Dukan practitioners. Either way, you'll lose the flab and be super taut. But you can never go wrong with the Green and White Diet, the secret weapon of fashionistas in the know. And, while trends may come and go, there is one combination that will always be in style- ketosis breath and look of death. #Chic

The Strategic Starvation Diet

"You just don't eat for, like 18 hours a day," the chic girl will explain when concerned friends inquire about her new stringent diet du jour. "But you totally get to have balanced meals for the other 6! It was on the news. They tested it on mice and they, like, totally lived longer. Ew."

Intermittent fasting is like a godsend for the chic. Apparently, it's actually really healthy and has a bunch of scientific studies published to back it up. Not that the chic girl will ever read them, of course. But if positive results actually exist, then there's actually something to validate her cray.

I mean, what kind of diet condones extended periods of starvation? It's as if this way of eating was made up specifically with the chic bitches in mind. Not to mention that i's supposedly uber effective! Like, in clinical trials, researchers found that overweight participants how utilized intermittent fasting lost way more fat than those who ate the same meals spread throughout the day. I knew that whole "6 mini meals a day" adage was total bullshit!

Of course, the chic girl is just an extreme case of human, so she'll narrow her eating window to 2 hours or so. Some deranged bitches may even aim for 20 minutes! Talk about efficiency.

There's an even wackier version of this method that's been named the "Bulletproof Diet," whatever that means. Basically, you drink black coffee with butter or coconut oil stirred in so that you don't get hungry while in your fasted state. Um, that sounds like a lot of unnecessary calories. And chic girls don't get plagued with hunger- we like to refer to it as "getting of track.: Lile, seriously? Drinking butter> That's not even real fasting. People have no willpower nowadays.

Supporters of this way of eating suggest that people snack on healthy foods during their feeding periods, like bananas and apples. Um, bananas are super starchy. And apples? Did you know that apples don't actually have much nutritional value> The only real benefit that comes form apples is from pectin, which will help to regulate digestion. but since chic girls already consume astronomical amounts of fibre, they won't be receiving many benefits from munching on apples. They can totally get their Vitamin C from elsewhere. Ohmigod, you're learning, like, so much from me. This might as well be a textbook!

I suggest that you nibble on a piece of cheese or some veggies during your allotted eating time. That way, you can totally maximize ketosis and burn as much fat as fucking possible. I mean, Emily Blunt's character in The Devil Wears Prada totally knew what she was doing. She was just way ahead of her time. Like, don't you want to be one stomach fu away from sample size too?

The Raw Food Diet

This one's for the extremists, of which there are many in the upper echelons of the chic. Basically, you stick to a diet of uncooked veggies all day long, with the occasional piece of fruit thrown in. As expected, these bitches are skinny as fuck and look great in just about anything. They also absorb, like, maximal nutrients and have beautiful skin and hair. Plus, they get to lecture and judge others all day long about the importance of enzymes and whatnot. These skinny twigs can also consume bushels of allowed foods and still keep their daily calorie counts in the hundreds. Totes ideal, if you can stomach it, I mean. But have you ever tried raw broccoli or mushrooms? Ew.

If you've lost all sensory input from your taste buds, as can happen when on frightening amount of amphetamines, this is the perfect lifestyle for you. You can be like a super svelte panda bear and nosh on stalks of celery or fistfuls of curly kale all day. You'll lose heaps of weight and will have a spotless digestive tract, I'm sure. Just be proactive about taking, like, 15 Beano with each meal. Gas isn't cute, even if it's being caused by adorable produce like grape tomatoes and baby carrots.

Some people will get all technical and allow themselves to have sashimi, but staunch raw foodists will shake their heads at this practice. I don't see what's wrong with it, especially since sushi is, like, so yum. Anyway, soaked nuts and sprouted seeds are allowed, but make sure to watch how much you eat. They're still packed with calories and, this, aren't totally conducive to rapid fat obliteration.

People on the raw food diet love to chirp about mental clarity and feelings of euphoria, but I think that they're just really happy because they can slip into Gareth Pugh leather leggings without putting up a struggle. I highly doubt that weeping into bowls of raw radicchio and consuming bland vegetables dressed in the salt of my tears would make me feel vibrant and more alive. I mean, I would be completely ecstatic about sticking to a strict diet of copper pennies and shards of glass if it, too, left me with a 3-inch thigh cap. But to each her own, I suppose.

It's also well known that a lot of working models are technically raw foodies since they basically just consume cauliflower smoothies and piles of wilted spinach. No wonder they always look so sad. But have you seen their hip bones? Um, yea.

So I totally just ordered a raw organic vegan Kale Dulse Salad and a cold-pressed coffee from Seamless. They better fucking hurry before all the nutrients break down. Ooh, do you think calories can break down over time too? Let's hope so. Enzymes, here I come!

The One Food Diet

Basically, anyone who lacks even a smidgen of self-control should consider this dietary tactic. It allows no leeway for excuses or exceptions so long as you follow just one simple rule: consume only one type of food.

When you define vague dietary rules, such as allowing low-carb or liquid items, you'll find that the hungry fatass within will convince herself that certain foods fit the guidelines. I mean, butterscotch pot de creme is technically liquid, right? And an entire stick of butter covered in guacamole is totes low-carb. Inhaling, like, three bowls of blood orange sorbet doesn't constitute cheating on a raw food diet, either...

Stop. Just stop. You obvi have issues with following rules, oh voracious one. Technicalities are just fancy excuses for the dietarily inept, and one shouldn't be allowed to make risky, body composition-altering decisions when starving and delirious. So do as the OCD-inflicted waifs do and pick one food with which to thoroughly familiarize yourself to the point of disgust for the next two weeks.

You won't have to waste time obsessing over meal planning or calculating nutritional contents. It's basically like putting your diet on auto-pilot ass you graze on your one allowed food in a fat-shedding haze. Honestly, yo can pick whatever you want, since you'll likely get sick of it as time goes on. Like, did you know that Uma Thurman once went on an ice cream diet? She lost 25 pounds over a six-week period. On ice cream. ON ICE CREAM.

Now, I don't suggest that you pick the congealed, sweetened mucus of dairy cows as your food of choice, as that' s just, like, not really a good starting point. Pick something like tomatoes, or green apples, or avocados, Bananas and grapes work also, but do keep in mind that they are quite high in sugar. My personal choices are either eggs or grapefruit with Splenda. Whatever you choose, make sure to stick with it. That's all there is to it.

Some proponents believe that partaking in the consumption of only one type of food allows your body to become more efficient at digesting and metabolizing it, but I'm not sure. I mean, I guess it makes sense. But who really gives a fuck about all of that health-boosting mumbo jumbo? The real reason that this diet is so attractive and effective is because it helps to teach you a lesson in discipline and restraint. By sticking to this diet for just a short while, you'll see that you're more than capable of controlling yourself when it comes to impulsive food-related decisions.

It's like dietary therapy, but without having to visit an overpriced psychiatrist who just nods along and asks you obvious questions about how you feel about that time you ate a lobster roll. Um, I feel like shit, okay? You didn't need to remind me. That's why I'm allowing myself zucchini slices for the next month, duh.

The Two Cup Diet

Did you know that your stomach is only the size of your fist? So why are you stuffing it until you can't breathe? Um, I don't care if you're a firm believer in Volumetrics- that method only works if you're feasting on organic iceberg lettuce and sparkling water.

Now, getting a bariatric surgery done costs roughly $30,000. Trust me, I went to go get an estimate. The doctor was actually really rude and scoffed at me during the consultation, which I really took offense to. He was all, "Um, you know that this is for, like, clinically obese people, right?" So I was like, "Er, yea. It's called preventative medicine, natch." And then he, like, totally rolled his eyes at me and said in a condescending tone, "You obvi don't qualify for the procedure, especially since your BMI totes falls into the underweight category. Sorrz." I'm not an expert in medical law or anything, but I think that's called discrimination. Horrible bedside manner, not to mention illegal, no? I really need to call my dad's attorney about this.

Anyway, my friend, Melissa, found a totally cheap alternative to getting your stomach stapled until it's the size of a walnut. She learned it from a group of 14 year old Latvian models that she shared a room with during Milan Fashion Week. You basically take two tiny Dixie cups and fill them with whatever food you might please, though preferably of the low-calorie, low-carb and low-fat variety. Then you can enjoy your mini feast without worrying about portion control. It takes the stomach roughly four hours to empty, so you can set an alarm on your iPhone for four hour intervals to remind you of when you're allowed to have another two cups. Um, genius, right? And who said that teenaged models needed to stay in school to have good heads on their shoulders?

Don't abuse this system by using the red plastic cups of beer pong infamy, though. You're not an obese retired frat boy living it up in Murray Hill. By Dixie cups, I'm referring to the uber cutesy 3 oz. waxed paper ones that are meant for gargling in the bathroom. If you want to take it to the next level, you can also use tiny utensils, like oyster forks, to slow down your consumption and increase satiety. There w as this one girl that I interned with who carried around a tiny Tiffany & Co. silver baby spoon with her everywhere. Totally crazy, yet totally chic. Did I mention that she weighed, like, 85 pounds?

So who cares if you look like an unhinged betch for scarfing down tiny bites of wild mushroom fricassee from a mouthwash-delivery vessel using a toddler's fork? You'll be laughing all the way past the antiseptic-scented waiting room of a really rude weight loss surgeon's shabbily decorated Upper East Side clinic while your critics slowly begin to qualify for Lap-band installation. Um, who said that preventative medicine had to cost a year's worth of college tu8ition? People with no self-control, obvi.

The HCG Diet

Only a batshit cray person would willingly stab herself repeatedly while wincing and bellowing in pain, right? Um, yes, but that mentally unstable waif wielding the 25 gauge needle sure is tiny. Enter the HCG Diet, a regimen in which one is required to inject oneself with a variety of vitamins and hormones while subsisting on a maximum of 500 calories per day. HCG, or Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin, is basically a hormone produced by pregnant women soo after conception for... I don't know. The guy who came up with the idea to implement it in a weight loss regimen said that it suppresses your appetite and helps with fat loss, or whatever. Anyway its use as a weight loss agent is, like, really frowned upon by the FDA, which everyone knows must mean that it totally works. Like, remember ephedra? And phentermine? Uh, yea.

It's really easy. You basically follow an ultra low-calorie, low-carbohydrate, low fat, high-protein diet (uh, don't we regardless?) and give yourself daily injections of Vitamin B-12 and HCG in your hips and thighs, respectively. A physician or medical professional has to hand then over, so expect to pay a pretty penny (or 60 thousand) for a three-week program. If you're feeling super ambitious, you can also drag the whole thing our for six weeks!

Everyone will be like, "Er, of course you're losing weight. You're only eating 500 calories each day!" Ohmigod, really? Thanks for the news flash. I totally didn't know that. Um, of course anyone will lose weight on a 500-calorie diet, you observant twats. But who (other than an anorexic ballerina) actually has the discipline to stick to those numbers? Uh, a really chic girl who just blew one week's pay on dietary heroin, that's who.

So even if HCG isn't actually clinically proven to assist with fat loss or appetite suppression, who really cares? Even if you had spent hundreds of dollars on sterile syringes filled with Flinstones vitamins diluted in Diet Sprite, you would still have an obligation to stick to the accompanying regimen. I';s called financial responsibility, people!

But, oh Chic One, how come we can't just use the homeopathic drops that they sell on Amazon? I don't want to hurt myself, you say. I really don't like needles, you cry out. Um, in case you haven't been paying attention, there's a concept called "No Pain, A Lotta Gain." And it's just, like, totes legit? I mean, just because you rub to botulism toxin all over your skin doesn't mean that you're going to do skit about your crow's feet or laugh lines. You're just going to have a really dirty face. But inject some Botox all up in those crevices? Um, hello Bruce Jenner!

Besides, didn't you know that "homeopathic" is just Latin for "faker than a Canal Street Kurakami Multicolore Monogram Speedy 25?" Ew.

The Cabbage Soup Diet

"I lost, like, 10 pounds in 3 days," the chic girl will announce with widened eyes to all of her entranced comrades. "I didn't even know that I had that much to lose!"

Going on the cabbage soup diet is akin to complaining about having to fly home for the holidays or binge drinking over Memorial Day Weekend- it's just ingrained in American culture. Eating disordered betches of yore have passed this timeless diet on from generation to generation and, as unglamorous as it may be, it still prevails as a magic bullet of sorts to this day. So when you need to get skinny stat, show a little patriotic spirit and boil up a giant vat of cabbage and under-seasoned water. Your tummy won't thank you, but your thigh gap sure will.

You can binge if you'd like, but I'm sure you won't want to. The soup isn't particularly enthralling to the taste buds, but the parboiled vegetables will help to satisfy the vacuous pit that is your empty stomach. And, even if you stuff yourself senseless with the tasteless broth, you'll still probably only consume a couple of hundred calories a day. Just don't try to stand up too quickly, or you might just faint from chic overload!

Some variations of the diet allow other foods, such as bananas and meat, but you really shouldn't stray from tradition. Like, what would your ancestors say? They would likely shake their pin curls in disappointment.

The basic recipe calls for cabbage (duh), celery, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, onions, carrots, pre-made bullion cubes and your seasonings of choice. Sounds super yum, right? Um, this is when you're supposed to nod and be like, "Ohmigod, delish."

Anyway, I wouldn't bother adding onions or carrots since they're uber starchy. I just don't want you to get kicked out of ketosis, you know? Come to think of it, throw those tomatoes out too. That bouillon just seems totes unnecessary also. Okay, so our soup will basically consist of mineral water and cabbage, I suppose. But now we're, like, totally doing the One Food Diet, too. And Paleo! And, like, this is uber vegan-friendly. Gawd, talk about multi-tasking.

The "I can't see it!" Diet

If you're a fixture on the fashion industry's party circuit, you are well aware of the au courant set's penchant for microscopic portions of distinguishingly decadent food, I mean, what exactly is the purpose of serving miniature cupcakes? Is this a test? Like, what's with the tiny sandwiches and cheeseburgers? Is the bread just there to keep your fingers clean? And someone please explain to me the obsession with canapes and fried puffs. All I see are fat and carbs sharing real estate on a tray smothered in grease and shame. It's actually really confusing yet insulting yet intriguing yet tempting yet cute yet revolting, all at the same time.

Am I supposed to eat it? I think I am. I mean, these kind caterers have already done all of the hard work and cut everything into tiny, guilt-free smidgens. And how terrible could everything be when the portion sizes are so adorable? That grilled truffle oil-infused gruyere sandwich can't be so bad for me, right? It's only, like, half the size of my Amex card. And that microscopic scone? It's the size of a quarter! Having one doesn't make me irresponsible.

Wait a minute. Ohmigod, are people watching? Do I look poor and desperate? How come no one else is eating? Should I not be eating either? I think I just saw that blogger pop a tiny piece of fried macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Or did he? I repeat, is this a test?

There is a reason that all of the offering at such glamorous parties are bite-sized enigmas of congealed cheese and bacon grease. They're your cheat treats! Enjoying a few tiny morsels of forbidden food is totes acceptable, so long as you don't carry around a plate laden with them. As a reward for all of the other 364 days a year that you deny yourself of such scrumptious evils, you are allowed this one window of glorious opportunity to indulge in two or, daresay, three pieces of wanton abandon.

Oh, but the fashion crowd is a clever one. While each itty-bitty hors d'ouevre might seem relatively innocuous, it is still a miniature recreation of something that you would never be caught dead eating in front of Anna Wintour. Thus, you must wolf it down as surreptitiously as possible while still keeping your composure. And in that is where the genius lies.

After committing such a deplorable act as inhaling a mini brownie in three seconds flat while crouched down behind a crowd of fashion photographers, you are overcome with remorse and shame. What has come of you? Have you no self-control? It wasn't even worth it! That's it- no more food for the rest of the night! Then you will ration out a mini green juice for the rest of the evening in hopes that it will at least help to dilute your transgressions.

Do you see what just happened? You got your junk food fix, yet your calorie count for the day will be kept low by the guilt that overwhelms you. If you're lucky, the remorse will spill over into the next day. Maybe even the rest pf the week! D you know what just happened? It's called psychology.

The I'm-fucking-rich-and-glamourous Diet

For the impossibly chic girl, it's raining oysters, sashimi and tartare every night, with a guarantee of accompanying champagne showers. She loves to order seafood towers for the table and is obsessed with rhubarb mignonette. "I'm basically on a raw food diet, as you know," she will explain to her friends as she persuades them into doing a $300 caviar tasting. "Just a really fancy one."

Or is black & blue filet mignon considered raw? Whatever. The chic girl loves her steak, especially if it's of the Kobe Wagyu variety. She'll do lobster or butterfish or even sea bream, but forgoes salmon because it's "so 2011." "I only do lox when I have Eggs Norwegian at Balthazar," she will say with a sniff as she pursues limited menus with disdain. "And I'm talking about Paris Balthazar, not the one on Spring."

She is like a culinary hipster in the sense that she basically shuns anything that wouldn't be available to the general public at Food Emporium. Um, farro risotto? With fucking kale? You better back away slowly before she scratches your face in frustration. How dare you offer her that. She doesn't do proletarian foods; didn't you know?

Basically, she will turn up her perfectly rhinoplasty job at the foods of mere mortals, rolling her eyes if someone suggests going out for pizza and snarling in disgust at the mention of gourmet burgers. "I tried a cheeseburger for the first time whilst on holiday in London last year," she will say as she lets out a harrowing sigh. "It was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Cava is not champagne!" she will vehemently cry out, snatching the menu away from the basic bitch who had the audacity to suggest it in her presence. "And oysters from New Jersey? Get the fuck out of my face."

This emaciated diva loves herself a good tasting menu, even if it consists of, like, 18 courses. But haven't you noticed how all of the nicer restaurants, like Per Se and Daniel, are basically just never-ending parades of microscopic low-carb morsels? Obvi the people in the kitchen get the picture! And as for dessert, this lavish betch never partakes- she's just so full, you know?

So be it foie grais brulee, organic rabbit rillettes or diver scallop carpaccio, this extravagant girl knows how to execute the zero-carb diet in style. And while other chic ladies around town may have to sacrifice pricey food in favour of fashion, this is never an issue for this rich bitch (or, perhaps, her sugar daddy). For the girl on the FRaG Diet, compromise is never an option.

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fazfuri · 2 days ago

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Hi fazfuri!! I wonder what else D!Bill consumes if there are no dying stars left even though there are probably trillions of them

He doesn't really need to eat much, maybe once every few centuries, but he does have a taste for other worldly goods, maybe an interdimensional equivalent of tea. Something strong or smth that makes his 2-dimensional sides tingle (alcohol). This is why he doesn't like human food cuz to him, human food is like plastic or dirt.

#deity alcoholic confirmed?#nah he doesnt drink that much on the job #faz has spoken

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aita-blorbos · 1 day ago

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AITA for deleting a bunch of "people" from existence?

I (50something, M) have this robotic creation (physically 14, M) who we'll call M. I made him with stolen alien technology (aka, the actual aliens), but all he did was disappoint me. He would eat cookies when he didn't need to consume food, watch stupid reality TV shows, do all his tasks poorly, etc.

He even managed to escape my brand's HQ with another one of my robots, and I couldn't find him for a while until I watched him start making his own silly TV reality show. I sent him funding for a few seasons, trying (and failing) to... Get rid of him because he was so outdated, but ultimately deciding that any business was good business, because his little show got very popular– enough to bring in plenty more customers. However, all good things must come to an end, and after sending him a new assistant (who failed miserably, might I add), I decided to take matters into my own hands.

You see, the biggest reason I let M keep functioning is because he had the unique ability to generate whatever he wanted out of thin air, using the alien energy in his core. He (unknowingly at the time) created the very contestants for his reality show out of nothing as well, something I knew for quite a while. I knew the only way I could get my hands on M's power again (and to use him as bait to get more alien power) was to speed up the ending of his show. So I decided to lie to the useless assistant, who I'll call T, and convince him that the "training exercise" I had him do was to make him a better assistant was just that, a mere training exercise. T was, in reality, piloting a mech that could erase the consciousness of M's creations, which I then had to take over because T did nothing but disappoint me too.

A lot of people have been rather upset with me, but I don't see what the issue is here. M is just a robot with an emotion emulator, not a real person, and the so-called "people" he generated aren't real either. They're intelligent enough, sure, but they're not real. All I did was do a little editing on some excess code, like any good creator would. I've done nothing wrong! Innovation isn't a crime!

But I will still ask you all- aita?

EDIT: I terminated those useless color-coded robots for good reason too! One of them kept spraying juice everywhere! I didn't even add that feature! Quit asking about that!

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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darknessawaits28 · 3 days ago

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Oh My Darling {Loki x pregnant reader}

Hello my lovies! Wanted to give you a short story about Loki finding out you are pregnant. Hope you enjoy my lovies! Thank you for all your love and support! Stay awesome! :3

Warnings: sensual gifs, mention of vomit, and very small things that might make someone uncomfortable.

Story was requested by @marley-suguru4143, make sure to give them a follow! :3

Asgard, the kingdom of gods and goddesses. It was a beautiful sight that could bring anyone to their knees. Odin was the all-father that ruled among this kingdom, he was a stubborn yet fierce man that ruled with an iron fist. He is wise, honorable, and dedicated to keeping the peace between the realms. His beautiful wife and queen is Frigga who is kind, gentle, and such a loving soul. They both had two sons, Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, and Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief; well adopted. It was a peaceful time in the kingdom, but a lot of heads were turning sideways at the sight of the wife of Loki. You were a mortal, something that the gods and goddesses did not want to see in their realm, but they kept quiet because Frigga always protected her sons, no matter how ridiculous their actions may seem.

Within the walls of Royal Palace of Valaskjalf, sounds of heavy boots could be heard stomping their way along the marble floors. It was the prince of Asgard, worriedly trying to find his beloved. Ever since they had consummated their marriage a couple of months ago, his beloved has been acting quite strange, sneaking out in the middle of the night, consuming various plates of food, and….a lot of visits to the washroom. He didn’t want to impose on you and ask you various questions that could possibly make you already stressed as it is; afterall, you were the princess now and had royal duties to perform.

“You there, have you seen my beloved?” Loki asked one of the passing servants.

“Hello sire, yes, she is partaking in the feast that we have just prepared, hope you enjoy.”

“Oh, thank you” Loki nodded, continuing to walk past the servant towards the great hall, his green cape flowing elegantly behind him. Once he arrived at the great hall, he sighed happily at the sight of you, filling your plate as usual. “Hello my darling,” Loki cooed as he approached from behind you, wrapping his arms around you ever so slightly.

“Loki!” You gasped, pulling away from him slightly, not wanting to give him the hint that you had a bump hiding underneath your dress.

Loki, taken aback by you pulling away from him, furrowed his brow, “Are you alright my love?” “Did I by any chance make you uncomfortable?”

“Oh no my love, my apologies, I am not feeling well of late so….any touch is…..painful for me….”. “It isn’t you of course, so please don’t feel angered.”

“Of course not my darling, why would I be angered?” Loki smiled as much as he could, feeling a bit hurt that you tossed him aside when you were in pain instead of cuddling up close to him and telling him what hurts so he could potentially heal you.

“Hello my son, how are you?” Frigga smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then gently placed her hand against your back. “Good to see you again my dear.”

“Mother” Loki smiled, giving her a kiss back when she had approached him.

“Hello your highness, it is a pleasure to see you again as well” You smiled, taking a bite of the chicken that was on your plate.

“Did you tell him yet?” Frigga ecstatically questioned.

Shocked to hear her even ask that question, you shook your head quickly to give her an indication that you never even mentioned the idea of you being pregnant to him because you truly were afraid of telling him, but mostly due to the stress he was currently under.

“Oh, my apologies then, do not worry about it then Loki” Frigga gulped, hoping that she didn’t overstep.

“Tell me what?” Loki asked curiously, his stomach already doing flips at whatever the ‘news’ was.

“Nothing my love, it isn’t important…oh…uh…excuse me” you gulped, setting the plate down and covering your mouth as you headed towards the washroom.

“Darling, are you alright?” Loki gasped as he tried to rush to your aid but was pulled back by his mother. “Mother please, let me help my wife!”

“I know honey, but I know she will refuse your help.”

Shaking his head in anger, he gripped his forehead, wanting to ask you but still pulled himself back so as to not upset you. “What is going on with her?” “Is it our food she is eating that is making her stomach upset?” “I can perfectly go down to Miguard and get her proper mortal food if that is what’s causing her anguish.” “I just feel so useless!” Loki nearly shouted in anger as he sat down on the chair closest to him.

Frigga smiled softly as she walked over to her son and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead, “I would tell you, but that is not my place my darling.” “But I assure you, she is perfectly healthy, along with her passenger.”

“Passenger?” Loki questioned as he stood from his chair, a loud gasp escaping his lips when he realized what she had meant. “No, it can’t be?” “Y/n!” He shouted loudly, possibly alerting the whole kingdom.

Meanwhile, you were in the washroom, breathing heavily as you sat on the floor near the bathtub, gripping the small bump that you had, feeling quite nauseous and weak. Although, you jumped violently at the sound of Loki calling your name, knowing for a fact that something was wrong. “Oh no, not now” you groaned, gasping when you began to dry heave into the bathtub.

Loki, hearing the sound of pain, quickly rushed into the washroom, kneeling down to hold you gently, “My love, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ah…tell you what my love?” you grabbed the cloth beside you, covering your mouth so as to not bring disgust to him by your vomit.

“You’re with child aren’t you?” Loki said out of breath, being so overjoyed and proud that he was to be a father soon.

Hearing him finally figure it out brought tears to your eyes as you nodded, “Yes….yes….” you chuckled, slowly grabbing his hand with your free one and placed it gently on your bump.

Loki, feeling your bump and then a kick, brought soft tears to his eyes as well. “Oh my love, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t want to bother you my love, you were so busy as it is, and I was as well with my royal duties.” “Besides I was going to tell you tonight, in our bed together, so that I could cuddle up close to you and….tell you that I was pregnant.”

“You do not need to worry about my stress y/n, that is my duty, your only duty is to be happy and comfortable” He smiled, cupping your cheek gently and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Oh, I’m going to be a father….what joy.”

“I’m sorry that I did not….oh dear!” you gasped, turning to your side and dry heaving into the bathtub once again.

“Oh y/n” Loki worriedly spoke as he rubbed your back gently to help you. “You need not to apologize.” “All you need to do now is relax, I am going to make sure that your royal duties fall upon me.” “And do not fret, I will have enough time to be by your side.”

“Thank you my love, but I need to be in bed now…” you sighed in pain, turning towards him to give him such innocent and weak eyes.

Loki, seeing the state of you, brought a shatter to his heart. He felt horrid that he wasn’t there from the beginning to help you feel better. But at least now he can be by your side for the time being and help you feel as comfortable as possible. “Come my darling, let me help you.”

“But I’m heavy,” you joked.

“Nonsense” he smiled, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and then picking you up bridal style. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed in comfortable clothing.”

As he exited the bathroom, Frigga noticed how her son was carrying you, knowing very well that he had raised him well; she felt so proud of him.

After a few minutes, you were dressed, cleaned up, and already in bed, wrapped up all nice and warm. “This feels so much better” you sighed happily.

“Does it?” he chuckled as he pulled off his royal attire, and then stood there with no shirt, and simple pants that outlined his elegant yet delicious legs.

“My, you do look ravishing Loki” You giggled, a blush covering your cheeks.

“Do I now?” He spoke cockily, slowly walking over to approach you and then carefully crawled onto you. “You know that’s my line to speak my love” he chuckled, softly cupping your cheeks and bringing you into a deep kiss.

“Mm darling, be gentle with me, you know I’m carrying your daughter” You teased him.

“Daughter?!” he gasped with eyes wide open when he pulled away from the kiss.

Hearing his shock brought a loud chuckle to your lips, quickly pulling him back in for a kiss to silence him as you both consummated once again.

#love #love story #smut #short story #loki #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #loki series #lokius #loki odinson #loki mcu #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x pregnant reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n

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daily-jin-madebygenius · 1 hour ago

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And you're sleeping again...

Jin placed the spoon back into the bowl. Most if the food was still left uneaten.

Was Poli so exhausted to the point where he couldn't even consume fuel to regain some strength? Poor thing.

Well, at least he could finish it later. She quietly places all the food back on the tray, waiting again for the awakening of the ill flower.

The daisy fixes his blanket so that the forget-me-not would stay warm. Despite it being middle of spring, the nights were still chilly. And the space wasn't known for warmness at all, let alone the ominous black hole looming over the life itself.

Let the star be cozy while travelling through the cosmos and his dreams.

Good night, Pols.

Big blue couch was waiting for her tonight. Jin flopped on it, not caring to change the pillow where the ill was cuddling. Rust was not contagious. If anything, she'd too get a fever but it's not deadly.

The door in Poli's room was left open. Just in case he suddenly felt worse. She wanted to be there for him.

There goes that feeling again. She cared for him. She finally cared for someone and it felt nice. The daisy wanted to protect Poli from his pain. Shield him in her warm embrace, even if didn't feel ready for something this intimate yet. But she was doing better.

Worry for the forget-me-not was creeping in her mind. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight. She'd much rather spend a restless night than not help Poli in time.

With the same book in her hand, she sinks into the fantasy once again.

And like that, the night shall be spent until the awakening of the blue flower.

Thankfully, life with allow them to paint their petals in brighter colours and enjoy themselves for a bit.

[ END OF CHAPTER FOUR ]

Alright, that should be enough...

Soft rustle was barely heard through market. Plums. They found their place in the cart along with other groceries.

It's been some time since the latest events. Jin could finally stand on her feet without the need of crutches. That meant free movement. And free movement meant more work that can be done.

Though not immediately, the teenager has managed to find a temporary job. An old mechanical station it was. It was ready to close as the owner's about to retire, but since they still have customers she was welcomed there. Though Poli wasn't so happy about it.

The rookie kept insisting that she needn't to pay for anything and that she should rest. Even if that meant him overworking himself. He's been doing that for some while now. The two were slowly bonding over the course of time and Jin couldn't help but worry for the forget-me-not's health.

Jin quickly shook her head. Right. Groceries. She's been zoning out again.

As she was about to go to the cash register, a little something caught her attention. A hairband. It was simple and cheap.

The girl didn't like spending money on things she bound as useless. Yet she noticed how her hair was annoyingly getting in her face whenever she was working. That hairband looked like a convenient solution to her problem. Plus, she got paid today. Didn't she deserve a small treat?

I'm back!

Jin peeked her head through the opened door. The vibrant orange hairband practically shining on her dark brown hair. The daisy has finally arrived at their garden. The place she truly felt at home.

As she walked in, the girl was greeted with an unexpected sight.

Poli?

@daily-rcp-poli

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sixlane · 8 months ago

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so sweet

Bartylily microfic | 1.4k words | NSFW

for india @certifiedl0verboy because they said the world needed barty and lily getting high and sharing a costco cheesecake, and also han @honeybcj because the image of barty and lily shotgunning hasn't left my head in days <33

Lily opens her fridge and stares. The cool air and soft light leaks out into the empty kitchen as she contemplates how she became this person. The type who, completely unprompted and for no good reason, buys a whole Costco cheesecake for herself.

The soft, round monstrosity sits on the bottom shelf of her fridge, taking up so much space she was forced to shove her yogurt into the vegetable drawer. The thing stares back at her, mocking, taunting, begging to be left to mold when she inevitably fails to eat it all.

The sound of a key in the door snaps her out of the silent stand off.

Fuck, Barty’s home.

She can already imagine his confused smile and snarky comments when he opens the fridge for his nightly Red Bull just to come face to face with Lily’s unexplainable decision. It’s not like they’ve been roommates for long, or friends for that matter. They keep it cordial, stay out of each other's way, smoke the occasional bowl and watch old seasons of America’s Next Top Model, but this seems a little too close to soul-baring for comfort.

Lily sits down at the table with a glass of water, tries to act casual, tries not to look at the fridge.

“Hey,” Barty says, dropping his keys on the counter.

Lily nods her head, taking a sip from her glass. For a minute she thinks she’s in the clear because he’s already started to leave the room, but he doubles back at the last minute, realizing he’s forgotten something.

He pulls the fridge open, reaches down, and stops, just for a second, before grabbing his energy drink and letting the door fall shut.

Lily pretends she hasn’t been watching him this whole time.

He pops the top on his can, takes a sip and gives Lily a once over. “You having a party or something?”

“Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” Lily deadpans, though she can feel her face heating up.

“Nope. Then I’d probably have to ask why I wasn’t invited.” He walks over to lean against the island, just a few feet between them, and looks down at her. He takes another sip.

“Ok look I needed more laundry detergent so I went to Costco and obviously I had to look in the bakery section and it was just sitting there. So. I bought it.” Barty’s smile widens as she explains until he’s just grinning at her. “What?” she asks, defensive.

“So you just bought the whole thing for yourself?” He says it curiously. He’s not judging, but she can hear the ulterior motive in his tone.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Spit it out.”

Barty huffs a laugh. “One second.” He sets his drink down and heads toward his room, leaving Lily to wonder what his plans are. She can never quite read him. He likes to play up this persona of his, effortlessly carefree and nonchalant, but she has always sensed something just below the surface. She notices it in the way he remembers her work schedule, the way he seems to have eyes in the back of his head.

When Barty comes back, he’s got a bag of weed in one hand and his grinder and bowl in the other. He holds them up, mouth quirked in a dangerous way, waiting for her response.

Lily reflects the smile back at him. “I like the way you think, Crouch.”

So, Lily grabs the cheesecake, two forks, and some napkins, while Barty packs the first bowl of the night. They light up next to an open window in the living room, inhaling as the warm breeze kisses their cheeks and slides through their hair.

They wait until they’re properly high before digging in, and as Lily brings that first bite to her lips, allows it to settle on her tongue, she swears it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

“Fuuuuuck,” she moans. “This was the best decision I’ve ever made.” She licks the back of the fork, wanting to savor the tangy goodness, and she doesn’t miss how Barty watches before he huffs a laugh and shifts his focus to take a bite of his own.

“God,” he says around a mouthful. “What does Costco put in this shit?”

“It’s fucking amazing right?”

It’s at that point that she notices a bit of cake smeared across Barty’s lower lip, so she leans over and wipes her thumb across it. It happens before she can even register she’s done it, but she fully commits, sticking her thumb in her mouth after, tasting sweet and something else.

“You use Aquaphor?” She asks.

Barty stares at her. Red eyes slightly widened. “You can identify Aquaphor by taste?”

Lily smiles with all her teeth and reaches into her back pocket to produce the tube she takes with her everywhere.

“Put some on,” he says before picking up the bowl for another hit.

She looks at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just do it.” He sparks the lighter and breathes in deeply.

She brings the tube to her lips and smears some on, watching his chest expand behind his t-shirt.

He holds the smoke in his lungs but motions for her to come closer and oh. She sees where this is going.

The realization doesn’t stop her from leaning in anyway.

Barty’s lips ghost over hers and he breathes the smoke into her open mouth. She inhales in turn, taking the air from his lungs into her own.

It’s intimate, she thinks, in a way that not many things are. To hold a vital piece of someone else inside yourself. To pass it back and forth with such care, not letting anything slip through the cracks.

And that thought is what causes Lily to close the barely-there distance. To allow their lips to push together. To allow herself to fully taste the leftover sweetness and Aquaphor and Red Bull on Barty’s tongue, which he doesn’t waste a minute before sliding into her mouth.

It’s sloppy and uncoordinated where they lean over the half-eaten cheesecake between them, and Lily pulls back before her arms give out underneath her.

They stare at each other for a moment, both smiling and laughing like idiots.

It’s so easy between them, always has been.

“One more?” Barty asks.

“One more what?” Lily volleys back, eyebrow raised.

“Bite,” He says motioning toward the cake, sly smile across his face.

She rolls her eyes affectionately but nods, leans forward as he scoops another piece, sure to get some of the buttery crust on his fork. He holds it out for her to take but before she can, the pile of cake and graham cracker falls right onto her left tit.

Lily stares down at it, mouth agape for a second before she starts giggling again. Because it’s funny. Everything is so funny she can’t help herself.

That is until Barty’s tongue is dragging itself along the skin there, collecting the cake and making way for his teeth, which bite hard enough to leave a mark.

He stares up at her as he does it, gauging her reaction. He gets the all clear when Lily fails to stop the needy whine that leaves her throat.

Barty trails his mouth upward, leaving open-mouth kisses along her neck until he reaches her ear.

“You taste so good,” he whispers. Voicing out loud the thoughts she’s been having all night.

Lily lets the corner of her mouth tug up. “You have no idea.”

“Fuck.” He reattaches to her neck and his hands find the button of her pants, dexterous as they undo it and work the zipper down. He reaches beneath her underwear, letting his long fingers slide through her wetness, collecting some before he brings them to his mouth, sucks sinfully and stares her down the whole time.

The haze around Lily’s thoughts sharpens to want, and Barty must see the change in her eyes because he smiles devilishly around the digits before replacing them where she needs them most.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he says, circling her clit lazily, not enough pressure to really get her there.

“Please…” she begs, arching into him, trying to push harder against his fingers. She’s too far gone not to act as desperate for it as she is. She wants his fingers inside of her, wants him to lick every inch of her, put his mouth in places it probably doesn’t belong.

“Shhh princess,” he coos. “Just enjoy the ride.”

Once they finish, Lily twice and Barty all over her stomach before licking her clean, Lily will realize they left the cheesecake in the living room under the open window.

Oh well, she was never really going to finish it anyway.

#lane put barty and lily in the same room but don't make them smoke challenge failed #something something food something something consuming #bartylily #lily x barty #barty x lily #barty crouch jr.#lily evans #marauders #marauders microfic #lane writes #microfic tag

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